Fragmented Lives
by beautifullittlefools
Summary: Madge is just trying to keep her head down in a district where the rich are mistrusted by the starving, where the divide between the dying and well-fed grows day-by-day and resentment is growing in the Seam. But then Gale Hawthorne shows her kindness. What does the hunter, the one who should detest Madge the most, want with the mayor's daughter? And should she trust him?
1. Chapter 1

_Well. This is unsurprising_. Grubby faces and squinting eyes follow my route along the shabby market stalls, taking in my loose blond hair and neat, clean tailored clothing. I examine the produce on offer fully aware of every eye in the Hob on me and they are not exactly throwing me a welcome party.

The chilly reception is expected; here I am, with my golden hair, expensive clothing and a spring in my step that says 'oh, you've been working in the mines since you were fourteen? Well _I _had to sit through 'Capitol History' lessons for another two years. I envy you, I would _much_ rather be out there experiencing the _real_ world. School is just _dire._' I am painfully aware that everything about me just screams 'I am the mayor's daughter.' I may as well have it tattooed on my forehead. That scary looking man with a great scraggly beard currently butchering what looks like a rabbit (although the poor thing could be anything the way the man hacks at it) looks at me as though he would willingly carve something into my forehead. Or face. Or just my general bodily area. I avert my eyes and quickly hurry past the rabbit massacre, scanning the rest of the market place and hoping to get this trip over with as quickly as I could.

I head towards the herbal stand at the back of the warehouse but a glint from a nearby table catches my eye. I come upon a stall selling trinkets and pieces of jewellery, pretty little things that shine when the late summer sun makes its appearance through the high beams of the warehouse windows. My fingers trace the shapes of the copper earrings, the rusty golden chains and the delicate lace bracelets, before they settle on a pale silver ring half swallowed by the snakelike tendrils of the explosion of treasures.

It's a fragile thing, not robust as you would assume a ring to be. Elegant swirls are engraved into its surface, entwining and looping until it reaches its centrepiece; a beautifully carved mockingjay, so carefully etched that I can see the flecks and lines of the bird's feathers and wings. Upon seeing the mockingjay, I know I have to have this ring. I hand over several coins to the girl behind the counter and shove my heavy purse into my basket, careful not to break the various vials and bottles needed for the medicine I am here to collect. Maybe it will give me a little bit of the luck Katniss has been having with my mockingjay gift, because things with mother recently have been deteriorating. _Maybe the sight of the mockingjay, the symbol of Maysilee, will give her some hope. _

I look at the run down scene all around me. Children in torn clothing with dirty bare feet run along the filthy floor, a group of elderly men sit in rickety chairs and pass a bottle of suspicious looking liquid between themselves, a rat scurries beneath a clothed stall before re-emerging seconds later in the jaws of a triumphant looking flea-ridden dog. The poverty is so clear to see here. It isn't just me that needs hope. The whole district is in disrepair. Poor district twelve, long forgotten by the Capitol if only to be dragged out of the woodwork kicking and screaming every year for the annual Hunger Games. The district has long grown used to sending off two of our youngest to the slaughter but that doesn't mean it gets any easier year after year.

This year is different however. Katniss _has_ given the people hope. Finally, _finally_ there will be a winner in twelve, the people are saying. There is excitement amongst the people of the Seam, of the merchants too. This is partly due to the fact that there could be two winners of the games from twelve due to a recent rule change; an unprecedented thought. Two winners from twelve. The star-crossed lovers, they are calling them. Is the Capitol becoming kinder? Maybe things will start to change for the better around here, for everyone. Although the sight of the almost skeletal bodies around me tells me that these are the people who need change the most.


	2. Chapter 2

'HEY!', a voice shouts behind me, 'what the hell is that stuck-up bitch doing in here?'. The voice belongs to a well-built man, just a few years older than myself, who is glaring directly at me. I regret taking a look at him now as I see he is gripping a meat cleaver the length of my forearm to his chest. _Oh crap. _My cheeks flush and my eyes begin to sting, involuntary sings of weakness I don't want him to see. _Don't let it get to you Madge. He doesn't know any better._ I look the man directly in the eye and answer him; 'I am here to collect herbs for my mother's medicine. She is un-'

'No one gives a crap about your freaking dying mother,' the man snarls, as others around him notice the commotion and, remarkably, seem to stand by his side. One woman with a tiny baby bundled in a ripped shawl gives me such a look you'd have think I'd have just killed her child right in front of her. '_You're_ here to tell on us to daddy dearest, it couldn't be more obvious.' At this point the man walks towards me, still holding the knife, a look of contempt on his face. I don't think I've ever seen a man so angry and it's terrifying. I know there is an element of mistrust towards the wealthier people of town, those who aren't starving and poverty stricken, but I had never seen resentment like this.

'I understand this is your livelihood, and without this place you would starve, I understand that I do,' I plead with the man, although it's clear from the scowl on his face that it's not going to work. 'But I would never shut the Hob down. Father would never shut the Hob down. You have to believe me. I am here today to buy-'

'Get out now, and never come back. Or…' and at this point the man brandishes the meat cleaver. He is close enough that I can smell the odour from his body and see the sweat dripping off his greasy upper lip. He raises his arm toward me and I scramble backwards searching for means of escape, but he has me trapped into a corner. How am I supposed to get out of this? There are at least ten men surrounding me now, and the Peacekeepers look in no rush to come to my aid. My stomach drops as I realise this man is clearly powerful amongst those in the Seam and even has power over those that are supposed to keep the peace. This shouldn't come as much of a surprise to me, bribes are always rife in environments of starvation, but the shock that I am unlikely to escape this situation makes tears escape my eyes.

'Please, I'm _begging_ you, don't hurt me. I'm here to pick up some medicine, my mother needs this medicine I can't just stop coming here.' Tears stream down my face and my words are becoming incomprehensible. 'Please…' The man dismisses my tears with an eye roll and presses the knife edge into my cheek. I can feel the warm blood as it trickles down my face, and the burn when my salty tears enter the growing wound. I squeeze my eyes shut. 'Someone help me…' I try to scream. It comes out as only a whisper. _I can't hear anyone coming. I'm going to die right here, in a dark dingy corner of the Hob, of all places. _And then, footsteps.

'Samuel, what the _hell_ are you doing?'

The knife still remains on my face, but the pressure lessens slightly.

'Just teaching this sneaking bitch a lesson. She knows now what will happen to her if she tells her father about the black market we've got going on here.' Samuel gruffly replies to the newcomer.

'Wow. Did you not think for a second her father already knows about what we've got going on here Samuel?' The voice sounded more than a little irritated. 'I mean. She was just saying about her mother needing medicine from here. Sure, it could be some twisted, evil plot to get inside information on us but I don't know, looking in this basket of hers it seems that's pretty much what she's come for. And secondly, I'm fairly certain that even if her father didn't know about the Hob, he's going to be a thousand times more angry over the fact his daughter has had a knife to her face than about the existence of some black market in the most corrupt district in Panem. So put the knife down. Unless you want Mayor Undersee to send you to the Capitol? Because I'm fairly sure he could do that for attempted murder.'

'Whatever, Gale. I only meant to scare her. You of all people know how much we need this place.'

_Gale? Gale Hawthorne?_ Well this _is_ a surprise. I knew of his reputation as the hunter of the district. Everyone did. Gale is the hunter, and I am the mayor's daughter. I am a risk to the livelihood of the Seam and to the existence of the Hob, the very heart of the trading place for Gale's illegal game. And on top of that, I'm pretty sure he doesn't even like me anyway. I still remember the sarcastic comment he made about my dress on the morning of Reaping, the hostility in his eyes.

So why the hell is he helping me?


End file.
